


You Did a Cocaine, Sweetie

by dinosaurApocalypse



Category: Benjaminutes - Fandom, The Riftdale Chronicles (Web Series)
Genre: drug usage, even though im very mad at christian i love my stinky con man, hesitant friends doing things hesitantly, its christian so i mean theres gonna be cocaine, sad boys in sad circumstances, they do a cocaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 07:54:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14950655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosaurApocalypse/pseuds/dinosaurApocalypse
Summary: In which Christian observes Claire's tendencies and offers a little help.He never claimed to be good at it.





	You Did a Cocaine, Sweetie

        The first time Christian met Claire, he thought the kid was a little strange, and that's coming from someone like him. A tinfoil hat, a nervous air about him, and constant, usually insane, theories about what the world around them is doing. Christian is the last person to be able to say he's entirely sane, as a con man and a coke addict, but some of the things Claire says is way off the rocker, even for someone like Christian. The craziest, and perhaps worst, part is that Claire actually believes what he's saying. At least Christian has the decency to admit the shit he says is all a scam and a lie, but this kid really does think he's telling the truth. It's batshit, that's what it is. Entirely batshit. Claire isn't even his real name! This kid is so paranoid he won't give out something as simple as a name.

        The first meeting was a little strange, yes, especially considering the magic fucking cat and the whole sitcom business that Christian isn't entirely convinced wasn't some intense drug induced hallucinations, despite the fact that he doesn't recall the last time he's ever had a hallucination from cocaine, especially not one as vivid and well remembered as that. Can people even have the same hallucinations? He doesn't know. Claire was convinced everything was as real as the cocaine in Christian's system, as real as the other many, many wild things this kid has hurriedly, in a panic, told Christian. Even the fucking gray assed cops saw the same shit they did, and if that doesn't set off alarm bells for something weird happening, he doesn't know what will. Why are those two gray anyway?

        Of all the times Claire broke into Bart's house, Christian has to say the Halloween break-in was the most bizarre. He wasn't there personally, no, but spend enough time with either of those two and you'll know their entire life stories. Poor guys must be so lonely if they're willing to speak to someone as bad as Christian, in his opinion, anyway. Armies of children? The government being out to get you? That poor kid is some major fucked up.

        It's hard not to watch Claire whenever he's around. Even though he's very clearly on some levels of fucked up, it's almost impossible to take your eyes off him. He's a walking disaster, a train wreck you can't stop paying attention to even if you want to walk away. His entire energy just screams "listen to me!" even if what he says is so out there, so far-fetched, it's impossible to actually believe him. However, Christian finds himself listening each and every time. Claire's more Bart's friend than his own, really, and he wouldn't actually say either of them were friends of his, but the amount of times he's been with Claire is astonishing. He can't seem to shake either of them no matter how hard he tries. Granted, he did take Bart hostage, and that means he can't actually shake Bart, but if he knew he'd have a two for one deal he'd probably have just scrapped the whole hostage idea completely.

        He can't help but notice the kid's behavior when they're together, when Claire's working on another theory or trying to get information from some source or another. Claire's fidgety, always having to move around or touch something, even if it's just to adjust the stupid tinfoil hat he'd rather die than take off. He's always nervous, for reasons Christian isn't sure he'd ever figure out or actually care to ask about, but it's so obvious in the way Claire holds himself that you'd have to be stupid and blind to miss it. On top of the nervousness, it's also painfully obvious that Claire's constantly afraid of the shadows and the silence around them that he talks just to fill it, moves to avoid letting the shadows of whatever's filling his head touch him. Christian's been there; he understands, at least a little, of what Claire's feeling. He may not know why or what, but he knows the kid has some serious demons. It's sad, really, and Christian doesn't actually blame him for the wild theories or the _whatever_ Claire is. Maybe he can't accept the truth, maybe believing a lie is easier. Who knows? Certainly not Christian.

        All Christian knows is how he escapes his own demons that chase him, the own void in his chest and the aching loneliness that fills every part of his being. The drugs keep everything away, keeps him feeling numb and clears the buzzing in his head long enough for him to actually do things. He's not one to offer help, much less offer to give away his precious stash of white shit in his bag, but clearly this kid needs some sort of substance to get him to stop, just for a minute. Giving him a little coke can't hurt, right? Besides, if it actually calms the kid down it'd do everyone a fucking favor.

        "Here," Christian mumbles, shaking a small baggy of cocaine in front of Claire's face, "Come do a line with me. Get out of that head of yours for a while and pretend the world isn't out to get you."

        "You're asking me to do drugs?" At least Claire has the audacity to look shocked, as if he wasn't expecting this or, somehow, didn't know this was going to happen. Claire always seems to know things not even Christian knows about himself. If it were anyone else, Christian would shoot them for knowing so much, but he's long since accepted the fact that Claire happens to know a lot of eerily accurate shit about everyone. Sometimes even before the person knows it themselves, and often times before the things actually happen. Sometimes Christian wonders if Claire's theories have some sort of truth behind them, just incredibly misconstrued or lost in translation along the lines of whatever runs his brain and thinking processes. Then he remembers Claire genuinely believes the moon is fake and that frogs are being turned gay by chemicals in the water, and he's back to wondering what the fuck makes this kid tick.

        "Not asking. Telling. You're going to do some coke, and maybe you'll actually get some fucking sleep for once in your life," Christian doesn't always mean to sound as gruff as he does. Maybe it's all the cocaine or the alcohol he finds himself drinking on the occasions when the drugs aren't quite enough for him to cope. He shakes the bag again, impatiently, giving Claire a look that means he won't take no for an answer. He's normally not about the whole pressuring people to do things, especially not drugs, but this is the only thing Christian can think of to get Claire to chill. He's not noble or even good at doing nice things, and maybe this is more selfish than what he'd like to admit, but somewhere deep down maybe he really does want to help.

        Claire squints up at Christian, the fucking crinkled tinfoil hat of his slipping to the side of his head, threatening to fall, only to be fixed by the twitchy hands of a nervous theorist. He seems hesitant, looking from the bag to Christian, even glancing towards the many papers scattered across the coffee table. Christian half suspects there to be red yarn somewhere- ah, there it is, under the table by Claire's foot. An empty can of some name brand energy drink lays on the floor, crumpled as if Claire crushed it in his hand. What a mess this kid is. Does he ever sleep? Not that Christian has any right to judge, considering he doesn't even remember the last time he slept, but at least he gets some form of sleep every once in a while.

        "I have so much work to do," Claire finally says, more to himself than to Christian, the cornered animal look never leaving his face. He always has that look, as if the demons in his head and the monsters in his closet have finally slunk out of the shadows, claws out and teeth bared, ready to tear him to pieces and all he has to defend himself is a pencil. Christian wonders what really goes on in Claire's head, why he's convinced his parents aren't dead, why he's so caught up in thinking that the government is plotting something and everyone is out to get him. Claire's so convinced that only he knows the truth of what's going on that sometimes Christian catches himself almost believing that the kid knows something about everything. If alternate universes exist, Christian's sure Claire would know about them all. Maybe they do exist, and all of his crazy theories are really things he knows about other universes, but he truly can't tell what's from the universe he's in and what isn't. That's too batshit to think about, even for Christian. He really needs a hit of coke now. He's starting to sound like the kid!

        "Look, just do one line. If it ain't your style, if it doesn't work, fine. Go back to trying to convince the world that people who like pineapple on pizza are just lizard people in disguise," He meant it as a joke, but the way Claire's eyes go wide with a realization only he could know about makes Christian regret opening his mouth. Claire quickly flips to a new page in an already full spiral notebook with sticky notes poking out from every available surface, scribbling new ideas and panicked thoughts on a single notebook page.

        "I think you're on to something, Christian," Claire mumbles, still writing with an urgency that almost makes Christian want to ask what he's on about, but he's not sober enough to be _that_ stupid. Christian rolls his eyes, shaking the bag yet again, causing Claire to look up at him with a look that reminds Christian of a child being caught with their hand in a cookie jar. A priceless deer in the headlights look, and Christian would be amused if he wasn't so annoyed.

        "Listen, kid, I know what it's like to be living in a head that won't ever shut up. It's enough to drive anyone up the wall. Just try it, for all you know it could shut up whatever's ticking up there," Christian sighs, looking at the kid who somehow managed to make himself at home on a couch that belongs to neither of them. Claire seems to be considering it for a while, and finally puts his notebook down. Christian almost breathes a sigh of relief as the kid stands up and stretches, nodding towards the kitchen with a look of tired exasperation.

        "Alright, alright. Just one line, then I'm going back to working out that theory. Clearly lizard people aren't human, and clearly pineapple doesn't belong on pizza. Maybe they are connected," Claire nods to himself, almost looking like he wants to go back to theorizing all fucking night again, but the look Christian gives him seems to convince him otherwise. Christian regrets a lot of things, but at the moment he regrets nothing more than the pizza comment.

        Christian opens the baggy, pouring out two generously thick lines of cocaine on the kitchen counter, vaguely wondering when the last time this kitchen was cleaned. He decides he doesn't care, instead choosing to focus on instructing Claire how best to get the cocaine in his system. Get as much in as you can, but it's not a race and for the love of fuck, don't fucking waste the shit. It's expensive, and good coke is hard to come by these days.

        A few rounds of coke and a fair amount of talking later, Claire winds up passed out on the couch for the first time since Christian's met the kid. Finally, some peace and fucking quiet without the panicked mumbling and usually crazy sounding theories coming from the tinfoiled boy. He does seem a lot calmer with the drugs, like the demons and other monsters after him don't seem as intimidating once he's under the high. Christian catches himself wondering if he just created another addict, almost catching himself worrying if his own selfishness would be the downfall of a kid who has no business being tied up with someone like him.

        It's only when Claire wakes up and begins a new round of theories and digging for proof that Christian decides he'll be okay.

        He's not sure who he was more worried about.


End file.
